Six Months
So we asked her to give us six months.
We wanted her to start doing things for herself again.
I took charge of exercise.
We started with short walks.
Within three weeks, she was complaining that I walked too slowly.
Eventually, we found a pool offering classes for older adults.
She loved it.
Grandma used to wait outside my practices with a sandwich.
Now, I waited outside her swimming classes with a towel.
My middle brother handled shopping.
Grandma had spent so many years buying whatever was cheapest that she’d forgotten how to choose something because she liked it.
One afternoon, she found a blouse she loved, checked the price tag, and put it back.
My brother handed it to the cashier.
“You bought three sets of school clothes every August. Try it on.”
She argued with him all the way to the register.
Then she wore that blouse the following Sunday.
Our youngest brother found activities that didn’t involve waiting for us to visit.
A book club, gardening, and beginner dance classes.
Grandma resisted dancing.
“I’d look ridiculous.”
“You raised three boys who danced around the kitchen in their underwear,” he told her. “Your standards can’t be that high.”
She laughed and agreed to try one class.
Within a month, she was going twice a week.
She lost weight, found clothes she enjoyed wearing, and let a stylist cut the hair she’d been pinning up herself for 20 years.
But the biggest change wasn’t physical.
She started making plans without us.
One Sunday, about three months into our arrangement, I suggested inviting Arthur over for dinner.
“Maybe it would help make things less awkward,” I said.
Grandma put down her coffee.
“Why would things be awkward?”
“Because of what happened on your birthday.”
She studied me.
“I appreciate everything you boys are doing. But I don’t need you finding me a boyfriend.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been trying to organize my happiness like it’s one of your work projects.”
That stung because she was right.
She reached across the table and touched my hand.
“I spent years making sure you three had everything you needed. I think I can figure out what I want now.”
I apologized.
Then she said something I didn’t fully appreciate until months later.
“Just because I’m doing something without you doesn’t mean I’m doing it alone.”
May you like
I assumed she meant her new friends.
It never occurred to me that Grandma might know something about her own happiness that we didn’t.
